Far Beyond the Limit
by Spirit of Gray
Summary: Sequel to "Candid Apologies". The Doctor struggles to keep himself in line, but the stress of everything makes such things an impossible dream. Takes place before The Snowmen and after TATM/ The Angels Take Manhattan. Trigger Warnings for self-harm. Sequel to Candid Apologies.
1. Chapter 1

The Doctor was quickly becoming increasingly bored as the night dragged on, and he waited around for Madame Vastra.

If she didn't have blackmail on him, he would have simply left, or have just not appeared altogether. However, she did, so he had no choice but to wait, as the night droned on and he leaned on a streetlamp, hoping that she would arrive so he could leave and be out of the human world as quickly as possible.

He was sure she was going to ask him questions, and he was planning on asking her questions as well. Hopefully they would come to a mutual agreement that did not involve Jenny or Strax.

He looked at his watch. It was only a few minutes past when the assigned meeting time was. He knew that the time wasn't absurd, but he couldn't help but feel annoyance.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and rummaged through them, trying to look for something to fiddle with, but he had nothing interesting.

So he pulled out his screwdriver and calmly started fiddling with it, going through the settings.

That only provided a distraction for a short time though.

He checked his watch again, only to learn that a short period of time had passed. So he put his hands back into his pockets and starts pacing quietly around the area.

The boredom was creeping into his mind, tearing at the edges. He could feel the temptation to search the area for something that would certainly make Madame Vastra be afraid and worry more.

It was bad enough that she worried for him in the first place, enough to follow him and discover his twisted actions and reasoning, and that she was maintaining contact with him.

After all, who would want contact with him?

His mind groaned. Where _was _she?

At the same time, he felt a hot role of self-directed anger run through him. How dare he complain and be angry at a person?

His mental flagellation didn't go far though, when he heard a voice cut through his thoughts., and made him stop.

"Hello, Doctor," the Madame greeted.

"You're late," he scolded.

"I said around ten," she defended.

He realized quickly that was true, and the role of anger turned to fury.

"Sorry," he muttered.

He couldn't see her yet, even as he looked in all directions.

"Where are you?" he asked.

"Above you," she answered calmly.

He took a step forward, then turned and looked up, seeing her calmly on a rooftop.

"What are you doing up there?" he nearly shouted in surprise.

"Watching you," she said, as it were obvious. She then jumped off the building freely, and walked toward him.

He didn't answer, even as she took a step too close into his own personal area, which had extended as his effort to not touch anything became more urgent, and smaller as he realized he had no claim on comfort.

"Take off your jacket," she ordered, her arms folded across her chest.

He was obedient, because she had complete control over him. He wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

As he carelessly dumped his coat onto the ground, the could see the Madame watch him with critical intensity, as if she was a lioness stalking her prey.

"Put your arms out," she ordered.

Carefully, he rolled his sleeves up, and raised his arms so she could see his arms.

"The scars are fading," she observed. Then she reached out and grabbed both of his wrists, and turned his arms around.

"It doesn't look like you've been doing anything," she praised, as she released his arms. Tentatively, he put his arms down, and looked her in the eye.

"Your TARDIS is still on that cloud, I presume," she asked.

"She doesn't belong to me," he muttered, annoyed.

The Madame rolled her eyes, and smiled. "Rebellious as always. I must say though," she tutted, "That you are more submissive than I expected."

"Is this not to your liking?" he asked. "I am perfectly willing to be more difficult."

"I'm sure you are," she agreed, "However, I do enjoy the fact that you're doing as you're told. It's making things much easier."

"Only for you," he promised. She took as step back and nodded at him.

"Just as well. You haven't answered my question," she accused.

"Yes, she is on the cloud," he said.

"And the cloud is in the same place?" the Madame assumed.

"The cloud drifts," he dismissed.

"How will I be able to find the TARDIS and you, if I need to?" she asked.

"The cloud will always be near that park. The ladder's always tethered to the tree," he claimed.

"How does that work? Can you un-tether it?" she asked in disbelief.

"Naturally," he smirked, enjoying her reaction.

He took a step to the side and started leaning against a wall.

"So do you just stay up there, sulking on your cloud all day?" she questioned.

"You're one to talk," he retorted, "You were just watching me on the roof of somebody's _house _for who knows how long."

"I was seeing what you would do when you believed I wasn't there," she dismissed easily. "I was also seeing if you would wait."

"I couldn't exactly not be here, now could I?" he asked.

"If you are intent on Jenny and Strax not knowing, then that would factor into my decision," she judged. "Even if it would not be the deciding factor."

"Which brings us to a very important question," he said.

"And that is?" the Madame asked, moving in front of him.

"What are my restrictions?" he asked expectantly.

"What ever do you mean?" she said, surprised.

"You said that I couldn't even consider self-harm or suicide," he pointed out. "What else can't I do?"

"That is your only restriction," she assured. She took a step closer to him, (too close, much too close), and put her hand on his shoulder.

"You've haven't done anything, I don't believe," she said.

"Tell me if you do, _please,_" she then begged.

He looked down, breaking eye contact.

"But then you'll tell them," he said.

"They say suicide is a cry for help," she said. "Self-harm is the same."

"If I was crying for help, you would know," he sighed.

"I do know," she insisted.

"You do not," he replied stubbornly.

"Regardless," she said, "You need help."

"I disagree," he said, wriggling his shoulder from her hand, and stepping away from her.

"That doesn't change the fact that you need help," she said.

She looked at him, and then stepped back.

"When shall we meet next?" she asked.

"Your choice," he decided easily.

"Thursday, at this time, here," she said.

Thursday. That was four days away, a decent amount.

He nodded and turned around, leaving. He could hear her do the same thing, and he then started considering what had just happened.

She had no significant expectations for him. Not that he would be able to meet them anyway.

He couldn't seem to meet any expectations given to him lately. River expected him to find a new companion, to replace her parents. He tried, he looked, but he couldn't find the spark.

An uncountable number of people expected him to move on, to save worlds. The problem was that he never had truly saved anything in his life. He had subjected himself to that and he never had succeeded. He was an utter failure at all things involving good.

Then when he started experimenting with self-harm, River expected him to stop, and he found that he could not. Now the Madame expected him to as well. He still couldn't understand quite why they wanted him to stop, exactly. It was terrible, what he was doing. He would be horrified if he found out someone close to him was doing likewise, but it was different for him.

They were too pure to see that what he was doing was good in many respects. It was keeping him alive (though he really didn't think that was all that good of a thing), it was keeping him sane (as sane as something like him could be), and it was wonderful in the respect of absolution. How else was he to made peace with the souls of those who he had wronged?

As the pressure of the situation reached his mind more steadily, his breath quickened. He was at the tree. He jumped up, not even bothering to look around and see if there was any night-goers spying on him, and climbed the ladder as quickly as he could.

By the time he was half-way up to the TARDIS when he had no doubt that he was not going to be able to succeed.


	2. Chapter 2

"I trust you had a nice chat with Vastra?" River asked when he walked in the door.

"Yes, yes," he dismissed. He would have asked how she knew and why she was asking, and why she was in the TARDIS for any reason in the first place, but she would have either become angry or laugh at any of those questions.

"What was it about?" she pressed. She was in a long coat and some yoga pants, and he couldn't tell if she was in anything else, and was leaning back on the console. He hoped that she wouldn't try to seduce him. He hadn't been in the mood for a long time.

"Clearing some things up," he said, "Making sure I'm keeping my part of the agreement."

"Agreement? What agreement?" she asked, stepping closer to him, and taking a hold of his hand.

"If you knew about our meeting, how do you not know about the agreement?" he countered. She started leading him away from the console room and into a hallway that he personally didn't recognize (not that he did any exploring when the TARDIS changed her interior design).

"Vastra informed me that you two were going to meet," River clarified. "She also asked me to ask you why you keep calling her Madame."

"That's what she is," he insisted, while they stopped at a door.

"To those who don't know her," River scoffed, "But everyone else calls her Vastra."

He could hear the cold logical part of his brain decipher exactly why he couldn't, for he wasn't described by everyone but more as with everything.

However, the last time he had actually said something along those lines, she'd found out about his self-harm.

"Well, are we going inside?" River asked after a measure of silence.

The door was open, revealing something akin to a living room.

"Why are we here?" he asked.

"I picked a random door," she said.

"Why did you do that?" he asked in disbelief.

"You need to go to more rooms than the console room," she replied with certainty.

"Why?" he complained.

"You sound more like yourself, good job!" she exclaimed, while pulling him into the room.

"Don't expect me to make a habit out of it," he said.

"Perhaps getting out more is what accounts for this-" she began.

"Don't go there," he warned.

"Perhaps it's the fact that you haven't been cutting," she suggested.

He was silent, as she installed him on the couch of the room.

Then, finally, he said, "It's good that I cut."

She sat down next to him.

"How can you believe that when everyone who knows about it disagrees?" she asked, placing her arm around him.

He was silent yet again. How could he explain in a way that would not garner sympathy from her, or cause her to worry more? How could he explain that it kept him anchored? That it was the only alternative he had to killing himself, which he could only attempt and never succeed?

"You don't have to explain," she said, putting her arm around him, "I think I understand."

He looked at her, and even though he could not commend her for closing in the space that was between them, he did not feel inclined to move away from her.

"So, you stay in here, all day and night unless you decide to go outside," she said, kindly not pointing out that he normally only left to do things that she disapproved of. "What do you do?"

He thought for a moment, before breaking eye contact with her and staring into his lap, and muttered, "Nothing."

"That's physically impossible," she argued. "You do _something._"

"I read," he said. "That's just about it."

She bit her lip, and placed her hands on his shoulders.

"Here are some healthier alternatives that you can do while I'm not here," she suggested, before rattling off a list.

* * *

She was about to leave in the morning, when she suddenly turned away from the open doors, and asked, "So what is that agreement that you and Vastra made?"

He was just about to dismiss her, but instead frowned, and said, "Jenny and Strax don't know about my... habits."

"They don't?" River asked, scrunching up her nose. "Why not?"

"Blackmail, of a sort," he tried to explain. "If I hurt myself, the Madame," he said, but then swallowed and corrected himself, "Vastra, will tell them."

River nodded. "I can't tell if that's good or bad," she decided. "More stress on you is bad, but the effects are very good," she approved.

"I suppose," he lied.

"When's your next meeting?" she asked.

"Thursday," he said, "Three days from now."

"Don't disappoint us," she said, when she finally stepped out of the TARDIS. Then she closed the door. He knew that she had zapped away with her vortex manipulator. She never zapped away in front of him for reason he had yet to discover.

So that left him alone.

His mind immediately drifted to going down to the human world, to finally get the sweet release that he had not had in days, but his mind protested.

_What if I'm caught?_ he asked himself, _what is the scar is bad enough that the Madame sees it?_

His mind then reasoned against that. It would be several days and it could heal quite considerably by then. She would probably not even question it.

Maybe, if he put it on randomly enough, he could claim it was an accident!

Convinced, he started out of the TARDIS who made a mournful noise in response.

He merely ignored her. She had safety-proofed herself, so that no dangerous objects were in his immediate area, (which was annoying when he was trying to cook). He honestly didn't want to leave at all, but he had no choice, really.

So he walked across his cloud and went down the staircase, not really thinking about anything except what a relief he would inflict on himself and how to hide it from River and the Madame (Vastra!).

He really wasn't paying attention to where he was going, just heading toward the alleys, until he heard, "Doctor? Is that you?"

His attention was immediately gained, as he spun around an looked at the person who called him a name he had never deserved.

"Jenny," he nodded.

"What are you doing out here?" she asked out of curiosity.

"I'm just walking," he lied. "You?"

"I'm on my way to the market to buy the groceries," she said, smiling warmly to him.

"That's nice," he said. He should have known that he would have no peace.

"Where are you walking to?" she asked.

"Nowhere," he said.

"Then walk with me, I insist," she said, approaching him and stopping at his side.

_Damn,_ he thought. If he said no, he would have to explain himself. He had promised them on that night a few days back that he would not run away from them (just after he explained that he hadn't been in London since Austria-Hungary was formed).

"Sure," he decided.

So they walked and enjoyed each other's company, even though he spoke as little as possible, and he helped carry the groceries back. The Madame wasn't there, but that was just as well, since she would ask why he decided to come down from his cloud.

So as he walked toward the way of his cloud and went up, feeling, knowing, that if he kept trying to go to the back alleys, he would be caught once again. Was everything against him?

So he went up the ladder, feeling even worse than normal, and tried to stave off that hated feeling of hopelessness.


	3. Chapter 3

On Thursday, he arrived early at the alley. He distantly remembered that he had always hated and avoided Thursday afternoons, so he wanted to get it over with. He had the suspicion that Vastra would arrive early as well, just as she had the previous time.

As he walked through the alley, looking above at the roof tops, he couldn't help but think that there was something he was missing. She wasn't in his line of sight (good, good), but he was early, so he wasn't expecting her to be there yet. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was looking past something.

He was pacing, he knew that, and that wasn't good. He was _missing_ something, so what was he doing, pacing?

Shaking his head, he looked around again, and focused on making sure that he looked at every possible spot. Suddenly, he saw her, looking at him with amusement. His eyes shifted out of focus, and then he understood.

"A perception filter? What are you using that for?" he called out.

"A simple mental test." Vastra then pulled something out of her pocket and messed with it (though he was having trouble actually seeing what she was doing).

He walked towards her and stopped a few yards in front of her. "Why do I need a mental test?" he asked, his voice coldly laced with bitterness. He felt perfectly fine. She had no right to test him.

He then felt a harsh mental backlash. How _dare_ he judge another? What was he thinking?

"To see if you have any underlying condition," she dismissed, taking a step closer to him. "Depression is often coupled with such things."

"Did I pass?" he asked, his voice quiet. He didn't believe that he had an _underlying_ condition. The TARDIS diagnosed him with self-defeating personality disorder. That was the root of his "problems", wasn't it? Did he honestly want to know if there was something _else_? Did he want her to know, and risk her and River trying to "fix" that too? Or, in a worst case scenario, tell Jenny and Strax?

"Yes, you did," she affirmed. "You noticed a bit quickly, though."

"What does that mean?" he asked, his frown even more prominent than before. She took another step forward, prompting him to take one back. Her eyes flickered to the gap between them, duly noting the distance.

"You're paranoid," she said. "Not that that's a bad thing."

"How can that be good?" He scrunched his nose for a second. "Paranoia is bad, generally."

"Paranoia can keep you alive. An honest amount is healthy," she argued. "Especially if you don't show the same..." she trailed off, and then resumed, "Survival instincts that most others have."

"I was considering suicide," he scoffed, "Didn't even attempt."

"I was talking about your normal reckless tendencies," she said.

"I'm normal right now, and I'm not being reckless," he denied, his hands firmly in his pocket as he resisted the urge to create hand signals to add emphasis of his point.

"You're travelling self is normal," she said with absolute certainty.

"That 'self' no longer resides here, I fear," he said, with an exaggerated sigh. "May I take a message?"

She flickered a smile, and then nodded at him.

"You saw Jenny a few days ago, helped her with the groceries," she stated, her voice monotone, businesslike. "You were 'walking'."

"I thought I had no restrictions," he said. "Am I not allowed to walk?"

"You can do what you like," she assured, as if they could pin him down if they tried. "I'm just curious. You didn't step a foot outside since then."

"I'm sporadic like that," he grinned, knowing full well that she could see through the fallacy of his happiness.

"What were you planning on doing, had Jenny not seen you?" she questioned, taking a small step closer to him, like she was approaching a wounded animal.

"It was only a walk, Vastra," he sighed. "Nothing else."

He knew she doubted that. Why would she believe it? It was incredulous, even as far as a blatant lie.

"Okay, then," she said, buying it doubtfully. "Prove it. Show me your arms."

So he carefully rolled his sleeves up and showed her his arms.

"Nothing, there is nothing to use in the TARDIS," he said.

His arms barely held the faintest reminders of his last encounter with anything sharp, but still, Vastra stepped even closer to him. He wished to pull back, but she would think that he was hiding something, and he was (always), so he had to stand his ground, and let her examine his arms.

When she deemed him fit, she stepped back and nodded at him, as he rolled his sleeves down.

"You pass that as well," she joked. "Of course I did," he said, "I'm brilliant."

"And you haven't had the urge to hurt yourself?" she asked. He shifted his feet, and averted his eyes. He felt her hand go on his shoulder.

"I didn't do anything," he said.

"But you've wanted to," she said, her voice quiet, reassuring.

"I didn't do anything," he repeated. "I resisted."

"Look at me," she commanded. He looked up, into her eyes. "You didn't do anything," she said calmly. "That's what matters right now."

She resumed her previous distance, biting her lip.

"It's getting late," he commented.

"It is," Vastra agreed. "When shall we see each other next, Doctor?"

He flinched. He was certainly _not_ a doctor, but River wouldn't let him deny it, and she would find out if he did, because she always did.

"Your choice," he said.

"Is Monday alright?" she asked. "Always," he said.

Four days, again. He hoped that he would be able to hold out again, with his respite being that vulnerable nerve cluster near his shoulder. Hopefully, just hopefully, he could do enough to that on his own inside of the TARDIS, he could make it.


	4. Chapter 4

"Did it go well?" he heard, the moment he stepped in. She was leaning against the console, once again, this time wearing some sort of blue and red get-up that he couldn't place. He walked toward her and managed a weak smile by the edge of the opposite side of the controls.

He took off his hat and placed it on a hook near the door. "Always, River," he dismissed. "Are you planning on dropping in here whenever I decide to meet her?"

She smiled brightly at him, and walked closer to him. He felt a slight twinge of annoyance. What was _with_ these women and invading his personal space? One was his wife (who he would never deserve), so that was understandable, and the other was a (wonderful, brilliant, extraordinary) lizard from before the dawn of humanity, where there was a lesser understanding of a "comfort zone".

However, wasn't his wife tortured because of his existence? Surely that was enough to try to avoid him and stay away from him, wasn't it?

And Vastra had stayed with humanity for years, accustomed with their sense of appropriate space requirements. Why didn't she try to stay away? Why didn't she understand that being close to him was dangerous? Didn't she see that at Demons Run?

All of his annoyance then flashed into harsh self-directed loathing. How dare he _complain_ about those who were _people?_ How dare he suggest to himself that he deserved _comfort?_

"You're making it sound like I'm not wanted," she said, the smile plastered clearly on her face. He flinched.

"No, no! Never, of course not! I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that Ijustmeantthat-" he blubbered on, horrified.

"Sweetie," she said, placing her hands on his shoulders, "I know you didn't mean it like that."

He started shaking. The smile had left her. He had made her unhappy. He was a disappointment to her, wasn't he? He was such an idiot.

"Calm down," she said, as she hugged him closely and whispered comforting words in Gallifreyan, telling him his true name, trying to pacify his thoughts.

His shaking grew more violent, as he tried to loosen himself from her. With a startling moment of clarity of thought, he realized why she was hugging him.

_She's restraining me,_ he realized.

He would only need to be restrained for one reason. She thought he was going to hurt her. Terror raced through him.

Had he hurt her, physically? (Mentally was assured. He had ruined her existence from her conception.) Surely he had (he remembered Manhattan, her wrist, and the scathingly true words of hiding from him), but had he ever, with his own body hurt her?

He probably had, if she was afraid he would do it. However, he had to assure her that he would never do such a thing to her.

"River," he called out, "River, it's safe to let go of me."

"Not for you, it's not," she scoffed, hugging him even tighter. "You held through strongly with Vastra. I make you reduce to shivering. What does that mean?"

"It's cold in here," he joked, as he tried his best to stop the shaking. "And how did you know what I was like with Vastra? There's no way she could contact you that quickly."

"Time travel, sweetie," she said, releasing him, but still holding onto his hands. "_You_ introduced me to it."

"Sorry," he murmured quietly, averting her eyes.

"Stop blaming yourself for every bad thing that's happened in my life," she ordered with a huff, shaking him, forcing his eyes back to her's. "It's been over a week since you last hurt yourself. I find that almost too good to be true."

"Vastra checked me. I'm clean," he reassured, trying to direct her away from examining him.

"You're making it sound like you're on drugs," she pointed out. "And she only checked your arms, didn't she?"

"Are you suggesting that I would try to do something other than cut?" he asked dryly.

"You've burned yourself. I wouldn't put anything past you," she said. "And there are more places to cut that your arms." Gently, she led him away from his position near the console and to a hallway.

"Where are we going?" he asked, almost hesitantly.

"To our room," she said. "You're going to undress, and you might as well be comfortable for it."

"Then I'm just going to redress and start working on a Rubik Cube, like you told me to that last time you were here," he pointed out.

"No you're not," she said, dragging him even faster down the corridor.

"I'm _really_ _not_ in the mood for- for shenanigans, River," he warned.

"If I want sex, I'll just go to a different version of you," she promised. "I want you to go to sleep."

"I don't sleep, River. You know that," he sighed. "That's something I've been avoiding since my ninth incarnation."

"You're going to do it anyway," she said, as she continued to drag him down the corridors. They stopped at their door, clearly marked in Gallifreyan, and River opened the door, as she let go of his hand and gave a pointed look at the interior.

"Go in," she encouraged. "The TARDIS can procure sleeping pills."

"I'm not going to sleep," he said stubbornly, stopping at the doorway.

"Well, I still need to examine you," she said, with just as much ferocity. "So go in and strip."

"That sounds so dirty," he said, still at the doorway.

She gave him a push. "I meant it to be, Sweetie. Now, I need to check you."

He silently refused, and stood his ground.

"You're being childish," she complained, grabbing a hold of his arms. Still he refused, taking a step back.

"So you are hiding something. That's not very encouraging," she sighed, as she released his arms. She looked at him carefully.

"You're not going to run?" she asked, a hint of confusion in her voice.

"You and the TARDIS will gang up on me. I know better now," he claimed.

"But you're still not cooperating. How is that knowing better?" she challenged, taking a step towards him. "Just go in the room!"

He opened his mouth, as if to complain, but then shut it and looked down, losing her gaze. He scurried into the room and then turned to River.

"I'm in the room," he announced dryly.

"Good. Now let me examine you," she ordered, as she stepped in the room.

Slowly, she closed the door and turned on the lights, and then approached him.

He took off his jacket and shirt easily, showing him the bare skin of his chest.

"No cuts," River praised, "But what's that there?"

She poked at his shoulder, noticing the slight swelling. "That's the nerve cluster you've always warned me about."

"Yes, it is," he agreed, squirming away from her.

"You've hurt it," she stated. "That one nerve cluster meant to debilitating you, and you hurt it."

"Nothing dangerous," he huffed. "I just pinched it."

She said nothing, as she continued her examination. Frowning, she suddenly ran her hand against his head. He felt a small ache when she reached the bruise.

"How did that happen?" she asked. "I fainted," he explained.

"From the cluster," she muttered. "I'm going to call Vastra."

His head shot up. "What? No!"

"Why shouldn't I?" she asked.

"Because- because," he stammered. "Then I'll be able to cut freely because that's the only reason why I'm not!"

She considered this, and shook her head.

"I'm going to get the sleeping pills. Change into your sleeping clothes," she ordered. "I'll consider."

He heard the unspoken part of that. More blackmail. Was that all that was controlling him?

He meekly started to get into his sleeping clothes and waited quietly on the bed for her return. He wondered distantly why he had yelled (raised his voice, used an exclamation point), and then begged. Something wasn't right. What had happened to him, that his mental state was crumbling so much that he couldn't understand why he was doing something?

He pondered this, as he saw River return to the room, with a cup of water in her hands.

"I've already dissolved the pills. All you need to do is drink the water," she explained, handing him the glass.

He took it and readily gulped it down, before he put it on the nightstand, while still looking at her.

"I'm going to tell Vastra," she said, "But don't worry."

What was that supposed to mean, don't worry?

He tried to reply, but found his tongue was too heavy for him to move. Then he fell back onto the bed, paralyzed.

"Go to sleep, Doctor," River said.

He couldn't really tell if she said anything after that.


	5. Chapter 5

He woke up a few hours later (he thought), in his bed, with the TARDIS greeting him overly-cheerfully.

_Hello, _he thought to her.

"You're up," he heard River say. Carefully, he shifted out of the bed, and walked toward the door, opening it slowly.

He flinched at the sudden appearance of bright light.

"Sorry for that," River said, much too loud, though she didn't sound sorry at all. "The pills I gave you, that's one of their side effects."

"What exactly is this side-effect?" he asked. He could feel a headache starting.

"Hyper-sensitivity," she explained. "Come over here."

He wasn't surprised to find that their room's door had been transported closer to the console room. He walked quietly until he was a few feet from River.

"I spoke with Vastra," she said. He tensed, and waited for her verdict. Certainly it would not be in his favor. He was like a murderer with all of the evidence against him. There was no hope for this situation- Jenny and Strax probably already knew.

"We're letting you off with a warning," she said.

The world refocused (still much too bright), and he looked at her with confusion.

"What?" he asked.

"I thought that would make you glad," she taunted.

"I'm _very_ glad," he reassured. "But," he stammered, "What I mean to s- I'm just a bit surprised, that's all."

"I researched everything I could about that cluster of nerves," River explained. "It triggers the closing of every receptor in the brain that allows the production and absorption of serotonin. You couldn't have enjoyed it."

"Why would I enjoy it?" he asked. "Isn't that why you like to hurt yourself?" River asked, "You like being in pain?"

He shifted. "So how would that get me off the hook?" he deflected.

"The fact that you are assured not to do it again," she said, "And we managed to create an effective system because of it."

"System?" he frowned.

"If you hurt yourself inside the TARDIS, she'll ring Vastra," River announced.

"I have quite a loophole for that," he said, amused. "I can always hurt myself outside the TARDIS."

"You won't, though," she said with certainty.

"How do you know?" he deflected.

"Spoilers," she flirted. "I should leave now."

He deflated internally. Of course she did. He should have expected that. Was he really stupid enough to think that she would stay, even for a second?

His mind only settled on that for a second, before he realized he was politely bidding her farewell.

He frowned. "What else did you slip into the water," he asked.

She smiled even wider, just before she closed the TARDIS and undoubtedly crackled away with her Vortex manipulator.

He shook his head and started going into the hallway, hoping to find the med-bay.

Carefully, he stopped at a random door and opened it.

_Please be the med-bay,_ he begged to the TARDIS.

He felt a negative presence in his mind, just for a second, before opening the door to see the kitchen.

"Not letting me know what she slipped into that water, then," he mused, closing the door.

The TARDIS laughed gently into his mind.

Bored (a new emotion, all of his previous empty moments filled with thoughts of self-hate and idealizations of self-harm), he started walking.

What was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just do nothing?

He thought back to River's advice, and briefly considered going to find a puzzle or challenge, but shook his head at the suggestion.

He wanted something _fun,_ something _interesting. _The idea of doing something that wasn't substantial just wasn't appealing.

_Wait,_ he caught himself.

His thoughts had rapidly descended into a path that would lead him to go outside, without the idea of pain on his mind.

Which lead him back to his dropped question. What had River _put _in his drink?

With a new urgency, he ran back (running?) to the console room, and asked the TARDIS, "Can I have a complete scan of all chemicals in my bloodstream?"

The TARDIS blinked her lights for a second in rapid succession.

"Is that a no?" he whined. The lights shot up in brightness, and he sighed.

"Alright then, you're hiding something, with River," he accused. The lights sporadically blinked on and off, and he shook his head.

He would go out then. He was plotting it already, exactly what he would do.

He would go outside (outside!), and take the main street, so he wouldn't be tempted (though he oddly enough didn't feel the urge that constantly tugged on his mind), and he would go to Paternoster Row, and ask Vastra (carefully, observantly) if she knew _what_ he was drugged with.

It was his only chance until he could interrogate River to find out _what._ He wasn't that patient. He might forget and then he would never know.

With conviction, he walked out of the doors and scrambled down the staircase, practically jumping off the ladder.

He was just getting out of the park when he noticed it.

It was broad daylight (he was the perception filter made it easier to explain where he had came from), and there was quite a crowd in the park.

When he saw a man follow him (subtly, but not enough) out of the park, he was duly confused.

He turned around suddenly, hoping to confront him, only to find no one there.

Muttering, he shook his head, and he continued on his way (taking the main road, trying not to look through the back alleys), walking calmly toward Paternoster Row.

Vastra was outside, veil on, watching him approach.

"I thought you might stop by," she said with certainty.

"Do you know what River drugged me with?" he said, ignoring her attempt at small-talk.

"A sleeping pill," Vastra said. "That you took willingly."

"There's more," he convicted.

"Do come inside," she invited.

He bit his lip. What were her intentions?

"Jenny and Strax are inside, and by no doubt know that you're here," she said. "It would be such a disappointment if you denied them the pleasure."

"Translation: Just go inside already?" he guessed.

"Something like that," she smiled. "They know nothing of our agreement."

"That's comforting," he said sardonically.

"I do know of what other things she gave you," she said. "Will you take that as incentive?"

"What am I doing?" he asked.

"You're going inside," she said, opening the door.

Frowning, he walked inside.


	6. Chapter 6

Led inside, a fake smile evident to all, he was met with Strax waiting for him.

"May I take your coat?" he asked. The Doctor looked at him with a slight discomfort.

"No, thank you. I don't plan to be here long," he said. Vastra followed in behind him, and said, "Though he may be."

The Doctor frowned and took off his coat, handing it to Strax. Strax then proceeded to take it into some other room.

"So what do you want me to do?" he hissed in a low tone.

Vastra looked at him with amusement, removing her veil.

"Just try to be normal," she said, walking into a different room.

The Doctor followed, pressing on, "And what does that mean?"

"It means that I have an errand that Professor Song gave me, in looking after you, that I want to continue doing," Vastra said.

"So, basically, you're just making sure that I have less time to practice my 'habits'," he summarized.

"More than that, but for our purposes today," she said, leading him to where Jenny was serving tea, "No."

"No?" he asked in confusion.

"I already told you that I know what Professor Song gave you," she said with a touch of humor.

"How is that related?" he asked.

"You haven't made the connection yet?" she asked.

"The connection of what?" Jenny butted in, handing a saucer of tea to both of them, noting that they both remained standing.

Vastra sat politely, coercing him down as well, while Jenny just watched the silent exchange with curiosity.

"It's nothing, dear," Vastra covered.

Jenny bit her lip, sat down with them, and quietly took a sip of tea.

The Doctor could feel the measured silence from the women, and felt the urge to say something (but why, when he was so much more comfortable to the silence itself?).

"So what have you two done recently?" he asked.

They both looked taken aback by that, as if surprised that he was resorting to pleasantries.

"We're working on a case, right now," Vastra said.

"The Peter-Daniel case," Jenny said. "It's either fratricide or two people with absolutely no relations in the past, and we're 'aving trouble figuring it out."

"Does it matter?" he asked.

"We can't make an arrest unless we know everything, unfortunately," Vastra said.

"That law's in affect in this time period?" he asked.

"A law?" Jenny asked.

"It's preferred, though I'm not sure if it's law," Vastra shrugged. "I wouldn't want to eat an innocent man."

"Good to know," he said, taking a sip of tea."

Jenny, who looked immensely awkward with the situation. "I haven't heard Strax yell in a while. I'll go..." she trailed off, "Check on him."

Vastra nodded at her and said, "Thank you for that. I don't want to deal with the trouble of him destroying something important."

That left the two in the room alone.

"So, now what?" he asked.

Vastra smiled in a non-sincere way.

"The names of the medication River gave you?" she guessed. "I suppose it's fitting. Will you be taking your leave after?"

"I think it's for the best," he decided. "I'm impeding."

"You're not," Vastra denied. "We're not doing anything at the moment."

"You're resting. You said it yourself: you're working on a case. You need to rest," he said.

"We're rested very well," Vastra argued.

"Not the point, even it was true," he said, setting down his teacup. "Can you give me the names, now?"

Vastra sighed and set her cup down as well, wringing her hands.

"Luvecidrian, Vinitrol, Pelegostiviac," she said. "Very effective drugs, I've heard."

"Effective for what, exactly?" he asked.

"Anti-depressants for one," she said. "Pelegostiviac, specifically, for a more lasting effect."

"Don't ask me to repeat the names, you've proven many times that you have an eidectic memory in this regeneration," she said.

"I won't," he promised.

"I'll get your coat," she said, standing.

He followed her, a few paces behind, and stopped patiently by the door as Vastra gave him his coat.

He opened the door to leave when he suddenly turned around and said to her, "Thank you."

He left before he could see or hear her response.

* * *

The walk home was uneventful, even as he wished for some sort of excitement (?).

The climb up to the TARDIS was just as dull.

The only interesting part that he had the rest of the day was looking at the scanner, at the information he was given about the three extra medications.

**LUVECIDRIAN- (3914 COPR. LUVEDIDRI CORP.) Used as an anti-depressant in humanoid species, side-effects eradicated.**

**VINITROL- (4162 COPR. JACKSON&SONS CORP.) Used as an anti-depressant for humanoid patients with level 4 depression signals in the psyche, side effects eradicated. Prescription use only.**

**PELEGOSTIVIAC- (4241 COPR. YULETUDEMEDS CORP.) Used as a mental barrier destruct in telepathic humanoid species, with level 5 mental disorders. Side effects- psychic and mental malleability, subconscious, unwilling, and unconscious psychic projection. Prescription use only.**

He sighed. That's why Jenny and Strax were avoiding him, and Vastra was putting up with him while they didn't wish to.

He looked up at the TARDIS for a moment, and then asked out loud, "Have you been programming my thoughts, or has River been helping?"

The lights lit up and starting racing around the console before they shut off, leaving a sad beep resounding through the TARDIS.

"I don't really need to know, do I?" he said.

It wouldn't matter. Either way, he was going to _kill_ River the next time he saw her.

Though he had to admit, even to himself, that she had worked in his best interest.


	7. Chapter 7

It was Saturday. He liked Saturdays. They were days for fun. He was already having such a gre-

No. That was the beginning of a huge lie. He was certainly _not _having a good time.

He was going to go had, he swore he was. He was going to go _insane, _completely off his rocker, and it was going to happen soon, as well.

The medication had worn off (his metabolism was against him- just as he was beginning to feel _normal_ too), and he was dealing with the sudden re-onset of his symptoms. The feelings of worthlessness felt like bile rising into his throat, the sudden self-loathing, the constant reminders of exactly _why _he wasn't good enough and exactly _how_ he had failed everyone he met and exactly _what_ about his existence wasn't worth were crippling.

He knew they were true too, but the respite that River had given him was something he hadn't felt in a long time, and he liked it, quite a bit (too much). The comforting thoughts that he had been given still pressed gently against his mind, whether from the TARDIS or a different source, were nice to feel. They were a contradiction to the rough and loathing thoughts that he had been plaguing himself with for months.

The worst thing though, was the fact that he _hated _the fact that he had felt that way. Another slither of self-hatred to go along with his personal storm.

He didn't _deserve_ to have their comforting thoughts. He was a fool for enjoying it, even for a second. Then, he didn't even take the fact that he was feeling good into consideration and went to 13 Paternoster Row, and his _wrong_ and _evil_ and _undeserving _feelings had scared some of his friends. (It couldn't be the remaining self-loathing that was never purged for that short while of time, because him feeling that was good and they would have had to have received that bit as well, nor the awkwardness of him being there, because his existence was awkward and they should have been used to it by then.)

In relation to that- he still had _friends_, something akin to blasphemy. Something like _him_ couldn't have friends, less he blemish the meaning of the word. Less he undermine every friendship that ever was in the entirety of existence, or cheapen it in some twisted way.

He was outside, trying to get some fresh air, even though it placed unfortunate natives in his wake. He was leaving the park, trying not to think about what he was doing. His need for escape from the TARDIS and his cloud, was selfish and stupid. It would upset people around him, make them feel uncomfortable.

Just as bad, he had that uncomfortable feeling that he was being followed, _again._

He was nearly out of the park, He spun around, as quickly as he could, only to spot nothing but a few people staring at him. He was paranoid, because who would find him interesting enough to follow?

Shaking his head, he continued (a bit faster) away from the park.

There was no need to go where people were, there never was. People meant that he was interfering in the life of perfectly innocent humans, which was something he had done plenty of in his too long life.

He just needed to be alone.

The constant feeling of someone looking over his shoulder was _not_ helping him.

He knew why he was so tense too. He had been triggered. The urge to hurt himself was raging at him.

He deserved. He needed it. It was, in all honestly, the only need he had that was fitting for a monster like him. Pain: he _needed_ pain. He always had and always would need it, the sweet relief that it was.

It was all he was living for at the moment. Pain, great and satisfying pain, leading up to his gratifying demise, the relief to everything that it would bring.

He was wrong, in a way, to think that he had only one fitting need. He had two. He needed to die. Pain and death, in that order, simultaneously, and forever more. The universe would be right again.

He kept walking, into an alley that seemed empty (it was the middle of the day, so who knew?), and leaned against a wall, slumping down, holding his head in his hands. How was he supposed to hurt himself without Vastra finding out?

She checked his wrists, and would undoubtedly check him that Monday, so how was he supposed to cut?

Answer: he couldn't.

He couldn't cut, had no access to fire, and no other tools (the TARDIS removed almost everything from his pockets).

He tried to think back to when he had heard of self-harm in medical and psychological studies.

Cutting- nullified.

Burning- not accessible.

Breaking bones- easier said than done.

Starvation- well under way, no immediate relief.

Swallowing various object-

He hadn't tried the last one yet.

Vastra couldn't check for it, and it would bring an appropriate sense of pain, if he did it with the right object.

It was a perfect plan. He wouldn't be caught, and he could fix his problem.

Suddenly eager, he looked around at the ground. There was always something sharp within immediate range (glass, normally). Instead, his grateful eye laid themselves first upon a piece of brick.

A small piece of brick that he could probably swallow with only a small bit of difficulty.

He picked it up and brought it to his mouth, swallowing it with relief. It scratched and burned its way down to his stomach.

As he walked back to the park with satisfaction, and a small bit of pride, he wondered how bad of an effect it would have on his system.

He could feel it ache already, and he couldn't stop the small smile climb its way onto his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

As he climbed up to the TARDIS, the ache had turned into a throb, desperately tugging away at gut. When he made it past the ladder, he gripped the handrail desperately, unsure if he was going to be able to make it to the top. He knew he deserved the pain, but there was something uneasy about this. Was it the feeling that he might have been caught, with that instinct that told him he was being watched?

Perhaps it was the risky feeling that gave him a touch of adrenaline, as he wasn't entirely sure how he would be affected by this new way he had discovered. He didn't want to be excited when he should have been feeling the appropriate guilt and shame and self-loathing that justified (encouraged, even) his actions. He shrugged that off for a second and started up the steps, biting his tongue to not moan out in pain (River always found out, but only if he sounded like he was in pain, an urge he had learned (was still learning) how to quell).

River finding him would be horrible. She would tell Vastra, who would tell Jenny and Strax and he would lose the little dignity he had left while they together watched his every move.

However, he couldn't just stop: that would be even worse, and it was too late to think about that now. He had swallowed that piece of brick, and now he was going to suffer for it. Not that he minded.

He had reached the TARDIS, and opened the doors, desperately trying to not double over yet.

Ignoring the console, he walked past, and leaned against the wall, just walking, until he could no longer and he fell knees.

He was sweating intensely, holding his stomach while deep inside the TARDIS. He vomited several times, blood mixed with the vomit in a weird egg-yolk and pink swirl.

Distantly, he heard some yelling, and then he was being pulled back and up, into a sitting position.

"The object is still within his stomach," he heard.

Damn it. That _didn't_ sound like River _or_ Vastra.

"Can it come out?" he heard, a separate voice.

He didn't pay much attention after that. Everything was whirling and fuzzy to his eyes.

He felt something press on his stomach, and then a hit on his upper back, and he started choking. The brick was coming up, he could feel it burning at his throat.

Then, suddenly, he felt the pound once again, and he started gagging, until the brick finally entered his mouth, and he spit it out.

"The object has left the body," the first voice said, "He need immediate medical treatment."

"Whatever is necessary," he heard, recognizing Vastra's voice.

He then felt himself being lifted up and carried somewhere. "Let me..." he groaned, "Down."

"You are in serious danger of internal infection," he heard. Was it Strax?

"'M not," he protested, squirming. "Better re-resistance t-to internally regulated bacteria."

"We must check," he heard.

Not accepting this, he continued trying to wriggle out of the persons grip, succeeding in slipping out of the grip of whoever had him.

* * *

He woke up restrained in the TARDIS medical bay, his head hurting heavily.

"It real irony, really, Doctor," he heard, "That you stay awake through a high level of pain, only to be taken by a concussion from what must have been a three-foot drop."

"Had to do it some way," he claimed, looking over to the speaker. It was Jenny, who was glaring at him from a few yards away, reading a book.

"I'll go get the Madame an' Strax," she said, exiting quickly.

He waited a few minutes, collecting his thoughts the best he could.

He had swallowed the brick, then he went up to the TARDIS with no difficulty, and then they found him and he fell unconscious.

No, that wasn't it. He went to the TARDIS and _then_ he swallowed the brick, and went up with difficulty- wait no. That didn't make sense.

He swallowed the brick, then he went up to the TARDIS in pain, and then they found him, and he tried to escape but he fell and hit his head. That sounded right.

Vastra, Jenny, and Strax quietly stepped in the room, watching him.

Obliging them, he turned his head and looked at them back, waiting for them for make the first move.

With deep sadness, but an air of calmness and self-stability, Jenny walked toward him.

"The Madame told us 'bout what you've been up to," she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

"She's been trying to figure out if you were trying to kill yourself or not," she said, glancing back at her wife.

"I wasn't," he denied, "I haven't once since I came here."

"That's good to know," Vastra said, walking to him, along with Strax. "Even if I have trouble believing such a thing."

"River would have stopped me if I even starting honestly considering that," he said, the "again" going unsaid. "The TARDIS calls her."

"River Song hasn't shown up yet," Strax said.

"I find that a bit queer, though," Jenny admitted. "She's here often, isn't she?"

"Depends," he said. "Randomly, or if I-

"If I do decide to hurt myself."

"I called her a while ago," Vastra said. "She's going to come after we're done with this conversation."

"What else is there to discuss?" the Doctor said impatiently.

"How we're going to work out keeping you on suicide watch and enforce it at the same time," Vastra said.

"But I'm _not_ suicidal!" he said, pressing up against the restraints. They were thick and leather, soft enough not to hurt him easily, but strong enough to hold him quite firmly.

"Self-injury watch, then," Vastra said. "The principle's the same."

"For how long?" he asked.

"Until you're not the most immediate danger to your own life," she said.

"What 'bout those drugs you were talking about?" Jenny asked, pointedly.

"Luvecidrian and Vinitrol," Vastra said. "Professor Song agreed. With the exception of the last one we had you take. The effects are too severe on the human minds around you."

He looked away from them, with shame etched into him. They thought the only solution for him would be medication. That was disconcerting in some way that he couldn't identify. Then he nodded.

Then he turned back towards them.

"How did you know that I swallowed that bit of brick?" he asked.

"Lucky guess," Jenny said, rolling her eyes.

"I thought that bit was the most obvious," Vastra said.

"That man who was following me?" he guessed

"Correct. I suspected you would try to find other ways to harm yourself," she said. "That's why the TARDIS only would alert us when you hurt yourself inside of her," Vastra said.

"I shouldn't have ignored my instincts like that," he said.

"Pain is an instinct you've been ignoring," Jenny said.

"I think it's time we let you and your wife speak?" Vastra asked.

He heard the door close, and then, almost at that moment, River came in with the flash of her Vortex manipulator.

"Hello, sweetie," she said.

"Hello, River," he greeted.

"You know that those antidepressants I gave you go together," she said.

"One to suppress the emotion that wants to be felt and the other to increase the hidden ones," he said.

"You can get better," she said. "And we're going to make sure it happens."

"You think," he said with a touch of humor.

"I've seen your future," she said. "I'm going to make sure it happens."

"And soon, my love, will you."


End file.
